


Beautiful Terror

by BardofEryn



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cherub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facing Fears, Happy Ending, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Promises, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardofEryn/pseuds/BardofEryn
Summary: Crowley comes across a cherub in the bookshop and has flashbacks of the Fall.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 283





	Beautiful Terror

Prompt: “I would never hurt you.”

For anonymous from the Good Omens prompts 

Imagery inspired by the works of @10yrsyart and @fireflysummers on Tumblr.

\---------------

He hadn’t seen anything like it since the Fall. He hadn’t expected to see anything like it in the middle of the bookshop.

It was a glowing with brilliant white light. It had three heads - a lion’s on the left, an eagle’s on the right, and a vaguely human head in the middle. All of them looked like they were made of the finest gold. The human head had a halo around it with a light in the center that somehow burned even brighter than the rest of it. The top of its halo nearly reached the ceiling of the bookshop. It was covered in hundreds of blue eyes - three eyes for each animal head, seven for the human one, and hundreds more on its arms, legs, and torso. Its body was draped in a pale blue robe like those they wore in the Beginning. Two pairs of pure white wings stretched out behind it.

Memories of swords and fire and falling flooded back to him in waves. It was a being like this that had sent him to Hell. For all he knew, this was the being that sent him to Hell. It wasn’t like they wore nametags or were easily identifiable from one another. 

“Crowley?” it asked in a voice as loud as thunder. 

His stomach dropped. This being knew his name. It knew his new name. Fear gripped him and he began backing away from it.

“See what I mean?”

He turned towards the voice and saw Gabriel, still comfortably in his human form. He was standing near Aziraphale’s desk with a triumphant grin on his lips. “He’ll never accept you as you are. He’s a _demon_.”

“Crowley?” it asked again, its voice many voices in one. Its bright, blue eyes seemed to sear his soul with their sheer intensity. It reached out a gigantic, golden hand. “It’s me.”

Crowley hissed at it and backed up against the wall. He knew better. He remembered. 

“Well, this has been fun, but I have more important things to do,” Gabriel said. He looked at the other angel, a wicked glint in his violet eyes. “Your body will be back in commission in about half an hour. Who knows? By then, you may have done my work for me and burned him to a crisp by accident.”

Its fists tightened and fell to its sides. It turned all of its eyes on Gabriel, and all of them screamed murder. “Get out!” it screeched, all of its mouths opening at once.

Gabriel smirked. “Yeah, alright, sunshine. See you when you regain your senses.” He snapped his fingers and was gone.

The being relaxed, unclenching its fists. It looked down at Crowley with its hundreds of eyes. “Crowley?” it asked for a third time. He could almost detect a hint of a posh English accent through the distortion of its ethereal voice. “Can you really not tell that it’s me?”

He shrank, covering his ears, his eyes, anything that could sense the horrible, beautiful thing in front of him. 

“My dear boy,” it said, making it suddenly and painfully clear that this was in some way Aziraphale. He felt large, fluffy wings envelop him. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“‘Sss what you lot sssaid lassst time,” he spat, trying his best not to claw at the wings that surrounded him. He couldn’t afford to antagonize it any further.

“Last time? I never - ” It cut itself off. “The Fall,” it said. “You were struck down by one of the cherubim?”

He nodded. 

Hundreds of eyes hardened. They turned and looked at the spot where Gabriel had been. “That... That...” He could see the being trying not to swear and, for a moment, could see Aziraphale’s usual form - tiny and indistinct - fussing with his waistcoat and pulling on his tie. “That... _Well!_ ”

“’Sss it really you?” he hissed. He swallowed and tried to remember to breathe (for the sake of normalcy if nothing else). “Angel?” he tried.

“Yes, dear?” the being said absently, still staring at the spot where Gabriel disappeared.

“Aziraphale?”

Hundreds of eyes turned towards him again, this time round and filled with love. “Yes! Yes, it’s me, my dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed. It... _He_ reached out a hand as if to cup Crowley’s face. 

He flinched. The feeling of a burning sword slashing down on his head, cleaving his halo in two filled his mind. He hissed.

He withdrew his hand. “I would never hurt you,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?” Crowley didn’t know how both lion and eagle eyes could be filled with pity and heartbreak, but they were. Bright, white wings curled more tightly around him. “I would never hurt you.”

“How do I know it wasn’t you?” he asked, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

He witnessed the unnerving sight of hundreds of eyes blinking at once. “I...” He paused. The lion head and the eagle head turned away, absorbed in thought. “You can’t,” he said at last. “Even I don’t know. I don’t _think_ you were one of the ones I struck down.” An awkward smile crept across his human face. “I feel as though I’d remember.”

“’S been millennia,” Crowley choked out. He clutched at his elbows. “Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t remember every demon you sent to Hell.”

Aziraphale flinched. “Yes... Well...” The eagle head began preening itself nervously. “Different times. I didn’t know... Well, _you_ for a start.”

Warmth spread through his chest. “You wouldn’t have...” Fire. Bright swords. Searing pain. Falling, falling, falling, falling, falling. “If you’d known me?”

“What? Of course not!” he protested. His wings trembled around Crowley. “Never in a thousand eons!” he continued, his voice focusing into one voice, his voice. The lion head pulled its ears back, a look of sorrow in its eyes. “How can you even suggest such a thing, my dear?”

“You did just say that you struck angels down.”

“ _Dissenting_ angels. And I didn’t know why you were dissenting at the time.” The eagle head plucked a feather on its neck and let it float to the ground. “I know _now_ , of course,” the human head continued. “Not that I agree with your side.”

“Fair. _I_ don’t agree with ‘my side,’” Crowley said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “’S why it’s _our_ side.”

“Our side,” he said, his voice mixed with the lion’s purr. “Yes.” The eagle head cocked to one side, surveying him with one of its bright, blue eyes. “Crowley, I believe I’ve just come up with something.”

“Yeah?”

He lay down on the ground so that his heads were level with the demon. “I want you to get the scissors I keep in my desk. Top right hand drawer.”

“Angel, if you expect me to go all Aslan on you...”

The eyes lit up. “You did read it!”

“Watched the film.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I won’t is what I’m saying.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He pulled one wing out from around Crowley and pointed with his primaries to the desk. “It’s an old cherubic tradition. Shan’t hurt a bit.”

He nodded and warily removed himself from Aziraphale’s wings. He walked over to the top drawer, not even attempting to engage in his usual serpentine swagger, and pulled a pair of ornate, silver scissors out of the drawer. 

“Right. Now, take a bit of my mane. Just a bit, mind you.”

Crowley gulped and walked over to the lion head. 

It sniffed at him and purred.

He pinched a bit of golden mane between his fingers. Carefully, he snipped a section off that was the same width and length as the tip of his finger.

“Hold onto that,” Aziraphale said. “Now take the feather I plucked earlier.”

He sidled around Aziraphale to where the golden feather lay on the ground. It was about the size of his forearm so he ended up holding it against his chest with his fist tightly wrapped around the bit of mane. 

“Excellent! Now all we need is...” He plucked the light from the center of his halo. “Er... You might want to put that down for a second. I’m not sure what this would do to occult...”

“Yeah. Don’t need to say anymore,” he said, carefully setting the hair and the feather on the ground. He took a few steps back for good measure. “What does this do again?”

“ _This_ ,” he said, applying the light to the hair and the feather. The bookshop crackled with flashes of light and a sound like fireworks. After everything had died down, Aziraphale removed the light and put it back into his halo. A golden ring sat in place of the feather and the hair. “The process is a bit flashy for my tastes,” he said, picking it up, “but the result is rather nice.” He held the ring out for Crowley. “Take it.”

“Bit much for a bit of jewelry,” he said as he took it between his forefinger and thumb. He noticed the outside was inscribed with something in the language of the angels.

“Ah! Not just a bit of jewelry. A bond,” Aziraphale corrected. He pointed with his wing. “That ring signifies an intimate relationship with a cherub. A sort of ‘do not harm’ to other angels.” All of his eyes looked away. “It also gives the wearer a certain amount of control over the cherub in question.”

A heavy silence filled the air. Crowley rolled the ring between his fingers and scowled at it. “Don’t want it,” he said finally.

“What?”

“Angel, I’ve been trying for millennia to get you to see that those bastards up in Heaven are controlling you,” he said. He tossed the ring back to Aziraphale. “Not about to take away your will just when you’ve finally gotten it.”

“But it would make sure I never hurt you. I couldn’t! The ring would...”

“Keep you from doin’ it, yeah,” he said. “But what else?”

He shrunk back as if he’d been slapped. “Certain orders would have to be obeyed. Mostly of a protective nature.” His eyes widened. “But I’m willing to do that if it makes you feel safer around me. Around this.” He gestured with his wing to his cherubic form. He held out the ring again. “Please, Crowley.”

“No!” he exclaimed. “Angel, I won’t do it!” He stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “I may not ever feel safe around your...” He gestured to Aziraphale with his head. “Angel form? What is that?”

“Angel form,” he confirmed.

“I don’t need to feel safe around this form,” he continued. “I need to know that you’re safe and happy. Using that would put both in danger.”

“Is it that you don’t trust yourself?” Aziraphale asked, his many eyes searching. “Because _I_ trust you.”

“Principle of the thing,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Never have liked too many rules and restrictions. Gets in the way.” He pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. “Now would you destroy that thing already before Gabriel gets his hands on it?”

He didn’t know it was possible for a being made of gold to pale, but Aziraphale managed it. “Hadn’t thought of that,” he murmured.

“’S why you keep me around,” he teased.

“Yes. That and your good looks.” 

Crowley blushed. “Jus’ destroy the blessed ring already.”

He nodded and placed the ring in his lion mouth. He bit down on it, then let the eagle head crack it with his beak. Finally, he took the same light from his halo and applied it to the ring again. It vanished in a puff of smoke. “Still,” he said once the smoke had dissipated. “I do want you to have something of me.” Before Crowley could protest, he plucked one of the hairs from his mane and twisted it in his fingers. In seconds, it formed into a ring of spun gold. “This is rather more like ‘just a bit of jewelry,’” he said, holding the ring out to Crowley. “But it will mean something to me.”

He eyed it. The gold looked like two threads that had been twisted together, only there was no beginning point and no end. “No powers?” he asked.

“Only the ones that humans bestow when giving each other rings. A promise.”

He nodded and slipped it onto the ring finger of his left hand. “’S nice,” he said, examining his hand. The gold twinkled in the cozy light of the bookshop. He looked up at the angel in front of him and swallowed his fear. “Need to get you something.”

“In time,” he replied. “For now, the greatest service you can do me is being patient until I return to my usual form.”

“Yeah... How long is that going to take again?” 

The human head looked up in what seemed like a grotesque parody of Azirphale’s usual thinking pose. “Fifteen minutes?” he said. “Give or take.”

“So, enough time for me to go get those biscuits you like,” Crowley said.

The human head nodded. There was something in its eyes though. A look of worry. “If you like.”

“Yeah, might as well,” he said, already halfway out the door.

If he heard a large being sigh as he left, he ignored it.

\---

By the time he came back, Aziraphale was back to his regular human form. He was busily taking notes about an ancient manuscript he had laid out in front of him. “We’re closed,” he said firmly, not looking up.

“Angel, it’s me.”

“Crowley!” he exclaimed, looking up at him with pure wonder. His two blue-grey eyes were rimmed with red. “You came back!” 

“’Course I did,” he said, setting the bag with the biscuits on the side of his desk. “Not like I’d buy chocolate, coconut biscuits for myself.” He leaned his hip against the desk. “’Sides,” he said, holding up the ring. “I have a promise to keep.”


End file.
